The Death Relic (30 page)

Payne put on a golf shirt and shorts, then headed into the living room, where he fully expected to find Jones and Maria flirting, fighting or both. But neither of them was there. Instead, Maria was taking a much-needed nap in the bedroom and Jones was admiring the ocean view from their private terrace. Payne grabbed a bottle of water, then joined him outside.

‘Nice view,’ he said as he pushed a teak chair against the patio wall. From there, he could see the Caribbean and the interior of the suite. ‘But not as nice as Pittsburgh.’

Jones laughed. ‘Apples and oranges.’

Payne nodded in agreement. Both views were spectacular, but in completely different ways. ‘Speaking of fruit, I’m
starving
. We might need to get room service.’

‘When aren’t you starving?’

‘Good point.’ Blessed with a freakishly high metabolism, Payne had to consume more than 8,000 calories a day, or else he lost weight. ‘How long has she been sleeping?’

‘Four hours or so. Pretty much the entire time you were in the bathroom. I swear, you are such a princess when it comes to hotels. Did you enjoy the guava shampoo and papaya soap? What about the towels? Did they meet your impeccably high standards?’

‘First off, I was in there for ten minutes, not four hours.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Second, I thoroughly enjoyed the bathroom accoutrements. Thank you for asking.’

Jones stared at him. ‘As God is my witness, if you ever say “accoutrements” again, I’m going to punch you in the face. That word is way too fancy for an American.’

Payne laughed. ‘You’re probably right.’

‘I know I’m right.’

Payne cracked open the bottle and took a long swig. ‘Anyway, while I was in the bathroom, I was pondering the circumstances of Hamilton’s disappearance, and I realized something important.’

‘That water is a valuable resource and shouldn’t be wasted in a four-hour shower?’

‘No, I thought of someone we should call.’

‘The African village that won’t have anything to drink because of you?’

Payne ignored him. ‘Don Stillwagon.’

Jones paused in thought. It was a name he hadn’t heard in a very long time. ‘Stillwagon? Why should we call Stillwagon? Isn’t he in Eastern Europe?’

Payne shook his head. ‘Stillwagon’s in Mexico.’

‘Really? Doing what?’

‘K&R.’

‘No shit. I haven’t talked to him in years.’

‘Me, neither. That’s why I didn’t think of him at first. The last I heard he was working for an insurance company in Mexico City.’

‘That’s a thousand miles away.’

‘True, but it’s still Mexico. He has to know some of the players who work around here. And even if he doesn’t, he’ll know a lot more about K&R than us.’

Jones nodded in agreement. ‘Do you have his number?’

‘Probably. If not, I’m sure I can get it. That is, if you think it’s worth my time. Remember, you’re running the show down here, not me. I don’t want to step on any toes.’

‘Hell yeah, it’s worth your time. What else are you going to do tonight? I mean, besides ordering room service ten times and watching pay-per-view.’

Payne laughed. ‘Actually, I’m glad you just said that. I’ve been meaning to tell you something all day. The head of security gave me a movie that you have to see. Go get your computer. It’s one you should watch without Maria. I don’t think she’d approve.’

Jones glanced inside the suite. Thankfully, she was still sleeping in the other room. ‘Why? How perverted is it?’

‘Just get your laptop. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.’

Jones set up his computer on the private terrace. He angled the screen away from the sliding glass door – just in case
she
woke up in the middle of the viewing – then grabbed the
DVD
from Payne. The label read ‘Mariachi Maria’. Based on the title alone, he would have assumed it was a Mexican adult film, but the grin on Payne’s face suggested otherwise. So did Payne’s presence. In all their years of friendship, they had never hung out and watched porn together.

Not knowing what to expect, Jones was temporarily confused when the video opened to show the driveway in front of the Fiesta Americana. A Town Car pulled under the covered entryway and was quickly surrounded by bellboys and valets. The driver hopped out of the car and started blowing kisses to everyone, as if he were a bullfighter who’d just entered the ring. A few seconds later, a mariachi band appeared out of nowhere. Five musicians in all, dressed in silver-studded charro outfits with wide-brimmed hats. The movie had no sound, but it was obvious that the band had started to play, because everyone was clapping in unison.

Jones glanced at Payne. ‘Worst. Porn. Ever. Why am I watching this?’

Payne laughed. ‘Just keep watching.’

‘If the band gets naked, you owe me a new computer because I’m going to throw this one over the railing. I’m pretty sure I can reach the ocean from here.’

‘Trust me, it gets better.’

‘It would have to get better. It can’t get worse.’

Suddenly, the driver started snapping his fingers and dancing in the middle of the driveway. He didn’t care who was watching. This was his moment to shine, and he performed without shame. He just danced, danced, danced around the front of the car. Then he danced, danced, danced towards the passenger-side door. The driver was so theatrical, so over the top, that Jones couldn’t help but smile. The whole scene was just too funny.

And then it happened.

The moment Payne had been waiting for.

Mariachi Maria stepped out of the car.

The instant Jones saw her, his eyes doubled in size – and so did his smile. He quickly covered his mouth with both hands, trying to hold in the laughter for as long as possible, because he knew when he let it out he would wake her in the other room. Not that he really cared. The truth was there was no way in hell that he would be able to keep this from Maria for long. His desire to share it with her was far too great. And not in a negative way. He didn’t want to tease her about her dancing – at least not much. Instead, he wanted to point at the screen and say,
that’s the Maria I remember
. The fun-loving girl who smiled and laughed and loved life. Not the grumpy one who has been picking fights with everyone in sight.

That was the Maria he had fallen for.

The one he missed.

‘Holy crap!’ Payne blurted as he pointed at the screen.

Jones laughed. ‘I know! Isn’t this great? I want five copies—’

‘No! Go back!’ He started hitting keys on the laptop, trying to figure out its controls in the darkness of the patio. ‘How do you stop this thing?’

Jones stared at him. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

‘Stop the damn movie and go back.’

‘Back? To where?’

‘Twenty seconds or so. I think I saw something.’

Jones clicked ‘pause’, then ‘rewind’. The footage inched back in time, slowly crawling towards the segment Payne wanted to see. ‘Want to tell me what I’m looking for?’

Payne ignored him and focused on the screen. ‘OK … stop!’

Jones paused the film. ‘Now what?’

‘I’ll be damned. Will you look at that?’

‘What?’

‘That!’

Jones crouched next to the screen and studied the image. He searched the crowd of bellboys and valets for faces that didn’t belong. He looked for guns. He looked for nudity. He looked for anything that might have piqued his best friend’s interest, but he came up empty. ‘Come on! You know I hate it when you do this.’

‘I know.
That’s
why I do it.’

Jones glanced back at the screen. ‘Aha! I see it. Right there!’

Payne smiled. ‘You’re lying.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Yes, you are.’

Jones growled at him. ‘You’re right. I’m lying. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now stop being a dick and tell m—’

‘Look at the van.’

‘What van?’

Payne pointed to the background of the video. A van was parked 20 feet behind the Town Car. Two men were sitting in the front seat of the van, surveying the scene in front of them. They were Latin men with short black hair and stocky builds. They were dressed in casual clothes and designer sunglasses – the same outfits they had been wearing when they broke into Maria’s suite. ‘Recognize them?’

‘Not really.’

‘Those are the bastards that trashed this place. I showed you their picture.’

Jones squinted. ‘Are you sure? All Mexicans look alike to me.’

Payne winced. ‘I can’t believe you just said that.’

‘Why? I’m black. I’m allowed to be racist.’

‘Towards other blacks,
maybe
. But not towards other races.’

Jones grimaced. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’

‘No wonder I have no ethnic friends. I mean, other than
you
. Of course, you’re a Polack, so you don’t know any better.’

Payne glared at him. ‘Are you done?’

‘I don’t know. All that sugar and caffeine is kicking in.’

‘Well, try to focus. We’re talking about Maria’s safety.’

‘How do you figure?’

He pointed at the screen. ‘Those guys pulled in
after
the Town Car. That means there’s a damn good chance they followed her from the airport. All this time, we thought this was about Hamilton. Maybe this is actually about Maria.’

Jones considered the possibility. ‘I doubt it. If they wanted Maria, why didn’t they just grab her? They had plenty of chances before we showed up. They could have nabbed her at the airport. They could have nabbed her at the bistro. Hell, they could have run the Town Car off the road on its way to the hotel. What would the driver have done to protect her? The tango?’

Payne nodded. ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. They had plenty of chances. In that case, why follow her from the airport? What were they hoping to achieve?’

‘Maybe they lost track of Hamilton and followed her to find him.’

‘How did they know about her to begin with?’

‘Beats the hell out of me.’

‘And why trash her room?’

Jones shrugged. ‘I thought we decided it was to scare her.’

‘But scare her from what?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe to scare her from Hamilton. Maybe it was their way of saying their problem was with him, not with her. Maybe it was their way of telling her to back off.’

‘If that’s the case, she
really
misread the sign.’

Jones leaned back in his chair and smiled. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time she had misread a sign.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Whatever you do, do
not
get in a car if she’s driving. I made that mistake once, and I’ll never do it again. Seriously, I’d rather play Russian roulette.’

‘She’s that bad?’

He cringed at the memory. ‘You and me, we’ve been through some serious shit in our lifetimes. Iraq. Afghanistan. That weekend in Bangkok. But nothing – and I mean
nothing
– was as frightening as that car ride in Switzerland. In a period of thirty minutes, I thought I was going to die fifty times. No exaggeration. Fifty times. That’s almost two times a minute.’

Payne waved off the claim. ‘Come on! She can’t be
that
bad.’

‘Here’s the thing: she
isn’t
that bad a driver. In fact, she’s pretty good. She knows how to steer and brake and parallel park. She even indicates, unlike most people in the world. If we put her on a racetrack, I’m sure she’d do pretty well.’

‘Then what’s her problem?’

Jones glanced inside the suite to make sure she was still sleeping. ‘She tends to forget what country she’s in.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I mean, she grew up in Italy, where they drive on the right, but she learned how to drive in England, where they drive on the left. For some reason, she has a mental block when she’s behind the wheel. She simply can’t remember which side to drive on.’

‘You’re shitting me.’

‘I wish I was, but I swear I’m not.’

‘I can’t believe you never told me this. Give me details.’

Jones leaned forwards to explain. ‘This happened right after the incident at the Archives. She was there doing research with Petr, and I was there helping with security after the fire.’

‘Where was I?’

‘You were with Nick Dial at Interpol, cleaning up our mess.’

Payne nodded. ‘That’s right. I forgot about the bodies.’

‘Anyway, I asked Maria out to dinner, and she said
hell yes
because I’m attractive, funny and hung like a donkey. I borrowed one of Petr’s cars – a tiny convertible – and we drove halfway down the mountain to this restaurant with a spectacular view. I ended up having a few drinks at dinner, so I gladly surrendered the keys to Maria. At the time, I thought it was the smart thing to do. Now I realize a Ku Klux Klan meeting would have been safer.’

Payne laughed. ‘Go on.’

‘She started off perfectly fine because all she had to do was follow the flow of cars in front of her as we left town. It wasn’t until we hit the rural road – the one that weaves up the mountain to Küsendorf – that I detected a problem. I knew we were in deep shit when she pointed at a road sign and said, “Look, the sign is backwards.” ’

‘Wait! You mean she was looking on the wrong side of the road?’

Jones nodded. ‘I thought she was joking until she took the next blind curve on the left side. A truck was headed directly towards us, and she was beeping at him like it was
his
fault. At the last minute she must have realized her mistake, because she swerved into the right-hand lane – and by “right”, I mean the right-hand lane
and
the correct lane. Same lane in this case.’

‘What did you do?’

‘You mean,
after
I shit myself? I asked her if she was OK. She assured me that she was fine – she had a single glass of wine at dinner – so I figured it was just some bad steering on her part. Could’ve happened to anyone. You know those Alpine roads. They’re death traps. No cops. No crash barriers. No yellow lines. I assumed it was a one-time thing that wouldn’t happen again. Boy, was I wrong. Every time we went through a tight curve, she ended up on the wrong side of the road. Not once. Not twice. Fifty fucking times. My adrenaline was pumping so hard, I felt sober by turn six. By turn fifteen, my blood-alcohol level was probably a negative number. And yes, I know that isn’t possible, but I’m telling you I was fine – except for my face. My face was so white I looked like you.’